


XIII

by Crowgirl



Series: Welcoming Silences [15]
Category: Foyle's War
Genre: Embarrassment, M/M, Morning After
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-28
Updated: 2015-09-28
Packaged: 2018-04-23 18:28:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4887217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crowgirl/pseuds/Crowgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This isn't his bed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	XIII

When Paul wakes up the next morning, the light is coming from the wrong direction and he has lost a pillow in the night. Craning over the edge to get it, he nearly rolls off the narrow mattress and only just saves himself with a grab at the bedside table.

Cursing quietly, he hauls himself back into the middle of the bed and lies flat, hands at his sides. There isn’t another pillow to lose -- of course there isn’t, because this isn’t his bed and Andrew, apparently, enjoyed sleeping as if on a table top.

He stares up at the ceiling -- predictably, there are model planes strung on threads -- older models, mostly, although there’s one brand-new Spitfire in pride of place at the head of the bed. A glance over at the window shows he must be in a room at the back of the house; he hadn’t taken a lot of notice when Foyle showed him into it the night before. 

_Fuck._ He closes his eyes now, turning his face a little towards the sun and contemplates the level of shame he has achieved by getting a teeny bit legless in his superior officer’s house.

He grits his teeth. 

There’s a tap on the door. ‘The bath’s free if you want it. Sorry about the hot water -- the heater isn’t very efficient.’ And then the sound of footsteps moving away over the landing and down the stairs.

Paul lets out a sigh he hadn’t realised he was holding and grinds his palms into his eyes.


End file.
